BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The blaring of her alarm sounds off in her ears, a growl rumbling through her lips as she groggily searches out for the godforsaken thing, trying to prolong the inevitable. Fumbling across her bedside table, her growl grows louder when a hazy memory hits her through the fog. She put her alarm out of arms reach. Damn it. Dropping her arm to the floor, she fumbles around for her shoe, cursing herself when another hazy memory filters through. She's got no choice now. Grabbing her pillow from beneath her, she secures it over her head, blocking off her ears, relaxing as the beeping dies down enough to fall back to sleep. Ah. Bliss.
"Elizabeth!" the annoying, nails to the chalkboard voice of her sister, Sarah, rings through the air just as she was nearing deep sleep. "God! What is the point of setting that thing if you're never going to wake up to it."
"Maybe I set it for this exact reason!" Elizabeth counters, forcing herself into a sitting position, not even caring that her curls are all kinds of whack at the moment. "Knocks annoying you off my to-do list each morning."
"Ugh. Just get up already." Sarah groans on as she walks over to yank open the currents, letting the offending sunlight in. "Breakfast is on the table and Gram's wants both of us at the table."
"Eh...I'll pass." Elizabeth counters with a sly smirk on her lips, rising to her feet as she starts stripping her clothes from her body. "Gonna stay for the show?"
"You're disgusting." Sarah states as she quickly makes her way out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
"Didn't think so."
Her clothes discarded on the floor near her bed, Elizabeth nakedly walks over to stand before her bathroom mirror, taking in the wreckage that is her appearance. Makeup trailing down her cheeks, hair all a mess, completely disgusted with herself that she let a guy do this to her. She's Elizabeth Imogene Webber for crying out loud. How could she let a guy that goes by the name of Lucky break her down to tears? Like, really? He chooses to be called "Lucky" for crap's sake. Damn.
Bending over slightly, she turns on the warm water, allowing the tub to fill up before lowering herself into its wet embrace. Sinking to the bottom, she shuts her eyes, remaining there for a long moment as the night's events play through her head once again. He's not into her. He said so in front of his friends, in front of them haters, in front of all them fakes. If he thinks that'll break her, if he thinks that she'll hide away, he's got another thing coming. She hides from no man, least of all a little playboy like that turd.
We can still be friends. His words echo through her mind with that screechy tone that he uses so well. Like hell. Friends? He thinks they can still be friends? That guy done gone lost his damn mind. Rising out of the water, she runs her hands over her face before swiftly running her fingers through her hair. No. If Lucky doesn't want her then he won't have her. She's done. She's done trying to mellow her personality for someone not even worth her time and energy. She's got a lot more on her plate than pleasing a daddy wannabe.
With the night completely washed from her body, Elizabeth grabs the quickest outfit she could throw together, her entire day planned out the moment she can escape this house. Her grandmother has been hinting at putting her in the same volunteer program as her sister, wanting her to get in line the way Sarah has, but Elizabeth's got no interest in being a Sarah copycat. She's got her own dreams to accomplish and none of it started in that program. Besides, if she had to see her sister get all sweet on the Cassadine prince, she'll most likely end up in a hospital bed from all the projectile vomiting she'll be shooting out.
Grabbing her back pack, shoving art supplies into it on her way out of her bedroom, she slings the straps on her shoulders before skillfully making her way out the door. As she's passing through the threshold, she can hear her sister rambling on about her bad behaviors, trying to her grandmother to handle her. Ha! As if they could ever change who she is. Rolling her eyes, she shuts the door behind her before walking off down the streets of town, hellbent on finding the perfect place to get a good sketch.
She was making her way down to the Elm Street Pier when she spotted a man sitting on the edge of the pier, leaning back with his arms bracing him, looking the most relaxed she's ever seen a person. Quietly lowering herself down onto the steps, she pulls out her sketchbook and pencil to sketch out the scene before her. A part of her wishing that she could feel as content as that man clearly does in that moment. Her muse kicking into overdrive, knowing that the moment wouldn't last forever, she sketches faster and more beautifully than she's ever sketched before. She was so into it, so deep into the art, that she nearly fell over in shock when he calls out to her. Crap.
"Hey, you know staring is rude, right?" the guy voices as he rises to his feet, walking over to her as she sits there like a deer in the headlights.
"Sorry?" she throws out as a comeback, unsure of what her next move would be.
"Don't be." he counters with a slight smirk. "A body like mine, I'm used to being stared at."
"Uh-huh, sure, Smooth. That line must get all the ladies." she instinctively counters, laughing softly when he chuckles at her retort.
"Usually." he admits, holding out his hand. "Johnny."
"Elizabeth." she replies, shaking his hand.
"So, tell me, Elizabeth." Johnny voices as he sits down beside her. "If it wasn't my hot body that got you staring, what was with the killer gaze?"
"Art." Elizabeth replies simply, flipping to the page with the sketch of him, handing it over when he gestures for it. "You just looked so content...so relaxed...I couldn't help but catch it on paper."
"Well, damn girl, you got some real talent." Johnny tilts the sketch from side to side, impressed with his image portrayed in the sketch. "And I'm not just saying that cuz I'm in it."
"Doesn't hurt though, huh?"
"You ain't wrong." he chuckles, handing her back the sketchbook. "For real, though, you got skills."
"Thanks."
"What's it gonna take to get that sketch off you?"
"Like a price?"
"Yeah." Johnny confirms. "Unless you got something else in mind."
"Slow your roll, Smooth." Elizabeth nudges him with her shoulder playfully. "You're not my type."
"Ouch." Johnny feigns offence. "So, name your price."
"If you like it that much, you can have it." Elizabeth counters, carefully tearing the page from her book and handing it off to him. "No charge."
"Talent like yours, you can't just give it away for free." Johnny shakes his head as he rises to his feet, snatching out a couple hundred from his wallet before handing it off. "That should cover it."
"Wh-what? No." Elizabeth shakes her head, trying to give it back to him. "Its not that great of a sketch."
"Yes. It is. Own your skills." Johnny says seriously, rolling up the sketch and sliding it into his back pocket. "Look, I gotta head out, but I'm having a party for a friend at my place this weekend. You should drop by."
"Johnny, seriously, take this back."
"We're past that." Johnny counters simply. "Keep up. We're on my party this weekend. Say you'll come by."
"I-I..." Elizabeth sighs at the look on his face before shaking her head. "Fine, fine. Got an address?"
"Much better." Johnny smirks before pulling out his card with his number and address. "See you there."
"Johnny, wait." Elizabeth stops him from walking off. "Thanks."
"No sweat." Johnny shrugs. "Thanks for the sketch."
Just like that, he was gone, leaving her with a couple hundred in her hands, wondering how the hell any of that just happened. Shoving the money into her pocket, she slowly makes her over to the bench, lowering herself down atop of it. It was so strange to think someone liked her art so much that they dropped a couple hundred on a simple sketch. Like, really? That literally never happens. At least not to a girl like her. Relaxing into the bench, she thinks about what Johnny said, wondering if she truly had what it took to make a real career out of it. It has always been her dream, no lie, but no one has ever taken such interest in her art beside herself. As she relaxed further into the wooden seat, content in her skills, she found that feeling she had seen clear in Johnny's body language. Deep relaxation. Contentment. She'll do it. She'll take her art all the way and she'll prove to her family, to the whole world, that she has something to offer. Something real. Something raw. Something only she could create. She'll show them all.